


Timing Is Everything

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Bonus Trope, F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, Post-Season/Series 03, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12482532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: This morning I upset myself by asking a question that I really should have known better than to ask - LOL! In any event, the subsequent discussion has left me with no option but to inflict further Phrack fluff upon anyone foolish enough to read on.Chapters 7 and 8: No cellists were harmed in the writing of these two chapters - which in retrospect is a terrible shame ;  )Inzannatea, as this is now at chapter eight of three, I suspect it is more of an embarrassment than a gift - my apologies ❤️❤️❤️





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts).



> This is also my entry for Whopooh's bonus trope 'We Need To Get Warm'.

Jack gazed up at the imposing… house seemed too small a word… structure? Either way, he could see no earthly reason for anyone to live in something this big - how did you keep it clean for a start? As if in answer, the house spewed forth at least a dozen smartly clad bodies of both genders. Jack (in fedora, well worn brogues, overcoat and with suitcase in hand) stood in the middle of the ridiculously large drive and stared at them… and they, standing at various levels on the steps in immaculate black uniforms, stared right back at him.

“Thank God you’re here, Jack!”

He turned to the source of this loud and enthusiastic proclamation. Striding towards him from what was likely the stables, though from its size could equally have been an airplane hangar, was the familiar figure of the Baron. Behind him, striding just as forcefully in tweed with Wellington boots visible under a long skirt was a woman who could only be Phryne’s mother. Jack fought the urge to straighten his tie, nobody but him needed to know how nervous he was right now.

“Inspector?” the tall, elegant woman overtook her husband to reach him first, “Your timing is impeccable. Thank you,” she said as she held out her hand.

A somewhat mystified Jack, put down his suitcase to shake her hand. As he stretched across to shake the Baron's hand too he kept his eyes on her, awaiting an explanation.

Instead, she turned to address the staff still waiting on the steps. “This is Detective Inspector Robinson. From Australia.” There was much widening of eyes at this statement and Jack felt rather like an object of interest in a zoo, or maybe a freak show. “He will be taking over the search. Please do anything he asks of you as quickly as you can and without hesitation.” A mumble of ‘Yes, ma’ams’ followed this statement. And then everyone looked at Jack expectantly.

For a split second, Jack’s mind went blank. This was not what he had expected. Six weeks on a boat, two months tying up loose ends before he could even get on that boat, and all that time wondering if he was even doing the right thing in taking up what could have been nothing more than a throw away line that she now felt obligated to stand by. No amount of telegrams would convince him otherwise. And now? He appeared to have arrived in the middle of a family drama where the one person… oh… he glanced around… of course.

“Is Miss Fisher missing?” he asked no one in particular.

A smart older gent stepped forward from the mass on the steps. “Yes, sir. I last saw her when I took her breakfast to her room.” Jack immediately designated him the role of Mr Butler. He glanced down at his watch, it was just before midday so that could mean she had been missing for anywhere between five hours and thirty minutes, depending on what time she took breakfast, which no doubt depended on what she had been doing last night. He steeled himself for the answer to his next question. “Was she on her own?”

This resulted in confused silence, a raised eyebrow from the Baroness and spluttering from the Baron.

He looked intently at ‘Mr Butler’ and repeated the question, “Was she alone when you delivered her breakfast this morning?”

“Most definitely, sir.” he said adamantly.

Jack believed him. “What time was that?”

“Just after eight, as she had requested. I believe she had planned to meet you at the docks. She asked for the car to be prepared.”

Jack followed his line of sight to a shiny red sports car complete with picnic hamper strapped to the back. He tried to ignore the hunger pangs this precipitated, focussing instead on the positive news that she had intended to be there when he got off the ship. It made him feel much less presumptuous. It had taken him four hours to get here, she could probably have done it in half the time. So she had been out there, wherever she was, for at least a couple of hours.

Jack shivered. For the first time since he had stepped foot in this country his nervousness abated enough for him to notice how cold it was. Several inches of snow had fallen overnight and the wind was biting. Either these people were impervious to cold or, more likely, they had rushed off in a panic to look for Miss Fisher. He turned to Phryne’s mother, “I think it would be best if we set up a command post inside; reviewed the facts, located warm clothes for everybody and studied a map of the surrounding area.”

She nodded, walking up the steps tapping various staff on their shoulders as she did so. At the top of the stairs she turned back, “We will take care of clothes and the map. Mr Shaw,” she looked at ‘Mr Butler’, “will show you into the study, provide you with the background and organise any interviews you may wish to conduct. Cook, can you please have some refreshments prepared for the Inspector?” Just before she left she gave her husband an exasperated look, “Henry? Just try not to make things worse.”


	2. Chapter 2

Thirty minutes later Jack had divided the male staff into four teams of three. They had clear instructions on the area they were assigned to cover, appropriate clothing and tea in flasks. There were three, maybe four hours, of daylight remaining and the wind was picking up. The local police had been contacted and were on their way with more searchers to bolster the effort before darkness fell. 

Back outside, as the others undertook their final preparations, Jack searched the snow for footprints. Much had been disturbed by the initial panic but he was satisfied that a set of prints heading from the front of the house into the woods were likely to be those of Phryne. He followed them until they became two sets. Crouching down he examined the new prints, going by the size, she had been joined by a male companion. 

“Why don’t we just keep following them?” the Baron demanded from where he loomed rather annoyingly over Jack’s shoulder.

“It may not be the quickest way to find her.” Jack explained patiently, “They could double back at any time or split up. No, it's best we stick to the plan, and work our way out to cover as much ground as quickly as we can.” Jack looked longingly at the tracks, if he had had more people, perhaps he could have led a party to follow them. It was tempting.

His inner conflict was disrupted by the sound of horses approaching across the driveway. The Baroness and four other women, each leading a horse, looked at him expectantly. He nodded, pleased with the additional manpower and the practical implications of the horses. He quickly reshuffled into five groups, assumed the Baroness would prefer to join him in following the tracks and dropped the potentially troublesome Baron altogether. One stern look from his wife was enough to silence the protests. With a final reminder to return by dark no matter what, they set off in their different directions.

It was heavy going and the snow began to fall again. Jack worried he might lose the tracks. He stopped to examine a point where their walking had been disrupted. He indicated for the others to hang back to preserve the…he grimaced… crime scene. Phryne’s prints showed she had turned to look at her companion. He must have been pacing back and forth, most likely a discussion had occurred... and then the steps resumed. Jack waved the others forward and continued. Ten minutes later the tracks stopped again and this time it was clear that something more like a scuffle had taken place. Jack glanced uneasily at the tracks disappearing in front of him. It was clear Phryne was being dragged along. He heard the Baroness gasp as the implications became obvious to her. 

“She’s resourceful, if he’s overpowered her she’ll bide her time, let him become complacent and then strike,” Jack said calmly. Nobody commented on his increase in speed as he plowed on. He was relieved when, not far along, the tracks showed two people walking independently again.

The terrain wasn’t getting any easier and he was grateful that the Baroness had thought to use the horses. If Phryne was injured carrying her was going to be near impossible. He was struggling at times as it was. The tracks were being covered and he was relying more on other signs of passage like broken branches and disturbed logs. It was clear she was doing her best to leave a trail.

He stopped abruptly, waving his hand behind him for the others to do the same. Tilting his head he tried to recapture the sound that he had heard at the very edge of his range. The low groan sounded again, somewhere to his right. He waited to hear it once more before heading off track to find it. “Stay here and keep quiet,” he instructed over his shoulder. It wasn’t long before he found the inert body of a man arranged on his side in a hollow, covered with branches and anything else that might offer some protection from the elements. Between him and the cold earth was a woman’s overcoat. 

Jack bit his lip. ‘Damn it, Phryne, he tried to hurt you. Why have you given him your best chance of survival?’ Surveying the local surrounds he picked up a hefty branch, using it to check the depth of the drifts as he made his way back to the rescue party. 

“I've found him but there's no sign of Phryne. Baroness, I need you to stay here so we don’t lose the track back. You two, come with me. We’ll need to lift him out.” When they reached him, Jack did a quick examination of the man and the surrounding area. Walking around he pointed at a tree root standing proud of the snow, “Look, he’s tripped over that and hit the back of his head on the frozen ground hard enough to lose consciousness.” The men, murmuring their agreement, picked up the semi-conscious body and carried him back to where the Baroness waited.

She climbed down from her horse to look at him. Jack waited. “It’s Harold,” she proclaimed coldly, “Henry’s accountant. Thick as thieves they are. He had a number of issues with Phryne’s involvement in our financial affairs.” Jack nodded, in his experience that would do it.

The men looked at her expectantly. She shook her head. “This man has abducted my daughter and may have hurt her. Unfortunately for him,” she said, as she took Phryne’s coat from Jack’s hands, “I am not as forgiving as her. This horse is for her recovery not his. You will have to do your best to carry him home.” She remounted the horse, “And if, for unexplained reasons, he ends up at the bottom of a cliff… I, for one, won’t be asking any questions.”

As the conversation was clearly over Jack motioned for the men to head back. “Do your best but if things become an issue, don’t risk your lives for him.”

“We’ll be fine getting him back, sir,” one of the men assured him. “You had better carry on, the Baroness is waiting. Patience is not counted as one of her virtues.”

Jack almost smiled, “Strange, I know someone almost exactly the same.” The Baroness chose to pretend she didn’t hear him. ‘Exactly the same,’ Jack thought.


	3. Chapter 3

The two of them travelled on in silence for another fifteen minutes. Even the horse was struggling now and Jack had taken to leading it, using the branch he had picked up earlier like a staff to keep his balance and find solid ground. Phryne’s trail was getting disturbingly erratic. She had likely expended significant energy dragging Harold to the hollow and finding the material to cover him. Her core temperature, exposed as she was, would have dropped quickly.

From her higher vantage point the Baroness was the first to spot the figure huddled against a tree. Letting go of the horse and the branch, Jack stumbled through the snow towards her. She was shivering uncontrollably when he reached her. He pulled his overcoat off and wrapped it around her. “Phryne?”

“Jack?” She didn’t open her eyes.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course,” she said determinedly, attempting to rise and failing.

He picked her up, carrying her to the horse where her mother waited with open arms to take her. As he tucked the recovered coat around Phryne he spoke to the Baroness, “Do you have any idea where we are? Are there any buildings closer than the house?”

She scanned the area. “Yes, the old gamekeeper's cottage is just over the brow of that hill. I suspect that was where she was headed. She used it for her,” she cleared her throat, “assignations in her younger days. It has electricity… and a phone.”

“Perfect,” Jack picked up the branch and led off in the direction she had indicated.

It took them less than 15 minutes to reach it. Jack carried the still shivering Phryne into the cottage. He placed her on the settee and her mother began to remove her wet clothes. Jack headed outside to find wood, using the branch he had been carrying as kindling to start the fire. Then, he went in search of blankets and dry clothes. He returned to find the Baroness on the settee struggling to keep the coats wrapped round an uncooperative Phryne.

“Hush, he is here, Phryne. I promise.” The Baroness rocked Phryne in her arms as though she were a small child.

Jack looked at her concerned.

“It appears, Inspector, that a mother’s comfort only goes so far. We had better change places. She is determined that I’ve left you out there in the snow and wants to go rescue you.”

He reached out to brush Phryne’s hair back from her face. “It's alright, I'm here.” To her mother he said, “Give me a chance to change out of these wet clothes and stoke up the fire then I’ll swap places with you.” 

She shook her head, “Just get changed and take her. I am more than capable of dealing with the fire and ringing back to the house.” She returned her eyes to her daughter who had calmed on hearing his voice. “Your Inspector is just getting out of his wet clothes - we mustn’t peek, it’ll make him shy.” 

Her daughter responded with what was probably a laugh. “He’s prone to blushing,” she said just above a whisper.

“He’s very sweet,” her mother assured her. “You should probably keep him.”

“I’ll try.” Phryne replied.

Jack got changed as quickly as he could then swapped places with the Baroness. Phryne snuggled into the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly. The Baroness tucked the blankets around them. He tried not to blush at the thought he was holding her mostly naked daughter in his arms. Sensing his discomfort she bustled away to deal with the fire and ring back to the house.

Gazing into the fire, Jack considered the situation. The thing about cuddling a cold person is that it is actually quite uncomfortable, he thought, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. It is chilly and concerning and never feels like you are doing quite enough. As if she read his mind, which frankly wouldn’t surprise him, she whispered against the skin of his neck, “I’m still so cold, Jack.”

“I know, Phryne. We need to get warm.”

She raised her head groggily to look him in the eyes. “At the South Pole they recommend skin to skin contact…”

He managed a laugh. It was a positive sign, he felt, that she was coherent enough to flirt with him. She dropped her head back and snuggled in closer to him. When he looked up the Baroness was standing in front of them with her coat in her hands. “I’ve rung back to the house. Harold has been taken to the hospital under police escort. My horse should be rubbed down and fed, and I’m not needed here. Two of the men are riding out to meet me. We’ll be back in the morning.”

Jack considered arguing but one look at her convinced him it would be a pointless exercise. 

As she put on her coat the Baroness continued speaking. “I was very young and inexperienced when I fell in love with Henry.” She stared into the fire where the flames burned brightly. “And later, too stubborn to admit I had made a mistake.” Jack watched her. “I have always hoped Phryne learned something from my experience. I’m pleased to see she did.” She turned to smile at him. “She is right you know.” Jack looked confused. “Skin to skin contact is the fastest way to raise her body temperature.”

Jack swallowed hard, this really was not a conversation he was comfortable with. “I know,” he admitted.

“Excellent. I’ll leave you to it, then.” As good as her word the Baroness let herself out of the cottage.

Phryne moved restlessly in his arms and his attention snapped back to the task at hand. “Phryne? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“You’re warming up but not quickly enough.”

“Yes, I’m very cold,” she agreed.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” she said without hesitation.

“We’re going to try the skin to skin thing.”

An eyelid opened slowly and almost managed to focus, “Really?”

“You’re fine but I’ll…” Jack couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “... well, you know.”

She faded away again and concern strengthened his resolve. He rearranged her to lie on her side against the back of the settee, stripped off his clothes, took a moment to wonder how the hell he had ended up here and then slipped in under the blankets with her. The shock of her chilled flesh against his made him gasp. There was nothing arousing about this at all, he thought gratefully, as he gathered her into his arms and held her close, willing her to heat up.


	4. Chapter 4

“Jack?”

He resolutely kept his eyes closed.

“Jack, I can tell you're awake."

She sounded normal, fully recovered and she felt… He stopped. His awareness of her state of undress was already abundantly obvious and… inappropriate, given her lack of choice regarding their current situation.

“You’re only making this awkward, you know.”

Was she joking? This couldn’t get any more awkward. He could neither stay nor, due to his state of undress and current predicament, leave. And he didn’t particularly want her to get up either, seeing her like this would be probably just result in him embarrassing himself. He groaned. It was like someone had created a personal hell just for him.

“Jack, you saved my life. I would never take advantage of the fact that, in order to do so, you have placed yourself in a vulnerable position.”

He gave up and opened his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I feel perfect in every way,” she assured him.

He blinked, he was uncomfortably aware of exactly how perfect she felt.

“I see my coat over there so I assume you found Harold. Was he alive?”

Jack blinked again. It appeared that they were going to have a conversation now: not, as you would expect about the fact they were lying together - him naked, her almost so - but about her kidnapper. Perhaps this was another custom from the South Pole. “Yes, he was taken to the hospital under police guard.”

Phryne raised herself up slightly, and Jack immediately wished she hadn’t because it was one thing to know she was in silk undergarments, another entirely to be visually reminded of it. “Is mother still here?” she asked.

Jack wondered if he could create some space between them but subtle investigations with his foot suggested he was already on the edge of the settee. “No, she wanted to get the horse back. She’ll be here again in the morning.”

She lowered herself back down and was face to face with him again.

“What can you remember? About Harold?” he asked, biding time as he tried to work out how to extricate himself from this impossible situation.

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back. “I was about to get into the car to drive out to meet you.” Her eyes flicked open and he found himself drowning in endless blue. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it. I had planned everything so carefully. I was going to whisk you off for a romantic picnic and then ravish you to within an inch of your life.” She noticed his reddening face. “Sorry, that probably didn’t help.” 

She changed tack. “I saw Harold rummaging around at the edge of the woods. It struck me as terribly unusual and so, of course, I went to investigate.” She sighed. “It appears I am horribly predictable. It was exactly what he wanted. He pulled a gun on me and demanded that we go for a walk. I tried to calm him down. I almost succeeded but then he became frantic. Accused me of trying to destroy his good name. Ridiculous man! I hardly told him to steal my father’s money,” she said indignantly.

Jack nodded; he imagined that this conversation had been at their first stop. Phryne had stood calmly whilst an increasingly agitated Harold had paced back and forth.

“We started walking again. I really had no idea what he thought he was going to achieve. Then, he stopped abruptly and tried to hit me. With the gun, for goodness sake! We grappled, I told him using a gun like a club proved exactly what a fool he was...”

“I’m sure that helped,” Jack muttered under his breath.

“Well, he may not have appreciated that particular criticism,” she admitted. “Anyway, that ended with him dragging me further into the woods, probably so no one could hear the gunshot,” she said, her voice matter of fact.

Jack clenched his jaw.

“So, the next time we stopped, whilst he was busy telling me why he needed the money, I picked up a branch and hit him as hard as I could. He tripped over something and knocked himself out. I was on my way here to ring for help but I somehow got lost... I guess that was the hypothermia setting in. Perhaps, I shouldn't have given him my coat?”

“That, and covering him with branches, may have saved his life.”

She beamed at him. “And you saved mine.”

His awareness of their proximity, which had faded whilst they had been speaking, came back in full force.

She noticed the shift in his focus. “Don’t worry, much as I want to - I meant what I said, I won’t take advantage. Look, I’ll even close my eyes so you can get up and dressed.” She closed her eyes.

“I appreciate your discretion, Miss Fisher,” he said, as he moved to get up. A look of disappointment crept across her face, and he hesitated. “What would have happened, Phryne, if you had met me at the docks as you planned?”

A wistful smile settled on her lips. “I would have had my wicked way with you by now.”

“I’m sorry I missed out on that,” he said honestly.

Her eyes flicked open. “I could be convinced to abandon my good intentions,” she suggested.

He paused, gazing steadily, blue eyes on blue. “Would it help if I begged?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to solitary_cyclist, whose help with the last chapter was invaluable ❤️❤️❤️


	5. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, it appears that poor math ability is not my only failure - LOL 
> 
> Somehow, I formed the impression that this fic was complete when, as a number of you have pointed out, it quite clearly was not. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (There are 1544 words in this chapter as desired by inzannatea)

She reached up, drawing him back down, letting her hand rest on his upper arm. “I have spent a great deal of time thinking up ways to make you beg, Jack Robinson.” She let her hand move slowly up along his arm and across his shoulder, watching him carefully the whole time. Jack thought he might stop breathing as her fingers traced up his neck and began to weave through his hair. “None of them quite matched this scenario,” she admitted. “However, I like to think I can work with it and right now, I’d very much like to kiss you,” her voice was low and flowed around him like syrup. 

Jack nodded… he shut his eyes and let her pull his head towards her. When she finally let him come up for air, he had a sense that he looked far from his normal composed self. It made him feel slightly better to see she wasn’t in a much better state, with her cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide.

“I think,” she said breathlessly, “if that’s any indication of what’s to come – you won’t be the only one begging.”

He had a feeling that the grin on his face was not portraying quite the air of sophistication he would have liked at this point. She didn’t seem to mind though as she dragged him in for another kiss. There was a slight awkwardness as they grappled with the narrowness of the settee and the abundance of blankets, the challenge not helped by the fact that it seemed impossible for them to stop kissing for longer than a couple of breaths. Jack solved one problem by throwing all the blankets to the ground behind him. 

Not long after he felt her pushing against his chest with her hand. Immediately he pulled back from her, panting hard, eyes full of apology. “Sorry, I…”

“Shush, it’s not that,” she assured him quickly, “there’s just a practical issue I need to address.” She sat up.

“Oh.” Jack, having only ever had sex within marriage - where pregnancy was one of the main objectives, blushed, “I forgot.”

She looked at him puzzled. “I’m taking my underwear off, Jack.” She manoeuvred in the tight space to do just that.

He refused his body’s urgent request that he watch, instead keeping his eyes exactly where hers would have been if she had not moved. “Right. I was actually thinking… about the other thing…”

“The other… oh, you mean my device? That’s all sorted, I wasn’t joking about ravishing you as soon as you got off that ship.” She settled herself back down. “Now, where were we?” she asked, as she wrapped her arms loosely around his head, crushing her breasts against his chest and staring intently at him as though she actually expected a detailed response.

Which was not something Jack was in any condition to supply - he could barely follow what she was saying as all his senses were overwhelmed by the feel of her now completely naked body against him. She was soft and warm and… she had just lifted her leg over his hip. His eyes focused on hers. 

“Jack,” she asked, “Do you want this?”

“God, yes,” he managed.

“Me too,” she smiled as she shuffled slightly before slowly pushing her hips forward. He watched fascinated as her eyes widened and her mouth opened to release a sound of pure pleasure as she started to rock against him, each time taking him in a little further. Instinct had him grasping at her thigh, digging his fingers into her soft flesh and encouraging her movements, loving the way her wet heat surrounded him. 

He felt her hand at the back of his head tugging at his hair and then, once again, she was plundering his mouth. Jack had learnt early on that it was best to stand back and let Phryne Fisher ‘happen’ around you but he had never realised it could feel this good. He tensed his buttocks when she pushed against him but tightened his hand around her thigh to stop her from pulling too far away, allowing only a rhythm of small deliberate movements. 

She moaned her approval into his mouth as her tongue twisted around and against his. This time when she released his mouth, she pulled back to gaze at him, stilling her movements. “Slow, close, intense,” she murmured, “it’s so perfectly you.” She might have been teasing but that was exactly what he wanted. Maybe later there would be time for exploration but this first time, his entire focus was on staying in contact with as much of her as he could, for as long as he could.

“Keep going,” he said, with more than a tinge of desperation, “the way you look…” She started moving around him again and there was pleasure in every line of her face. “… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I intend to make the most of every second of this,” she promised. “And later, I’m going to have you again. I’m going to have you in so many different ways your head will spin. I’m going to have you writhing underneath me as I ride you, with your hands all over my breasts… I’m going to be on my hands and knees with you behind pumping into me hard… I’m going to have you pushing deep into my mouth as I caress you with my tongue…”

The pictures running through Jack’s head were the most erotic he had ever imagined and he was harder than he would have believed possible. He could barely stop himself from throwing her on her back and just pounding into her. He had absolutely no chance of stopping the low moan of want that came from deep within his chest. She grinned, pleased with his response and pulled him back in for another passionate kiss, keeping up the delicious sliding friction between them.

When she released his mouth, he could see a different type of intensity on her face. Her eyelids flickered, her breathing was quick and shallow, her focus was entirely on the feelings being produced by the movement of her body against his. Her fingers were knotting in his hair, tugging. He bit his lip, hoping he was going to be able to last because he really wanted to watch her. He wanted to know that he could bring her pleasure and satisfaction, and he wanted to know what that looked like so he could be sure it happened every time he was intimate with her. 

He dug his fingers into her thigh, and for the first time actually let himself push into her. Her eyes opened and focused on him. “Yesss… do that again.” He did and she moaned, “More, Jack… please? So close…” The constraints of the settee prevented him from moving as much as he would have liked but in many ways that increased the tension as he moved inside her from deep to deeper. Her hands were scrabbling across his shoulders trying to pull him even closer, which wasn’t possible because he was already as close as physically possible but the mindless attempt was intoxicating for them both.

Now that he was pushing into her he knew that he couldn’t stop and that he wouldn’t last long. He felt her tense, her entire body went taut, from her fingers right through the tendons in her thigh and… even around him, inside her. The look on her face was not unlike pain, her eyes were glazed and unseeing, her mouth open and… she was saying his name, over and over again and it was the most incredible thing he had ever heard and he never wanted it to stop… and... his senses completely overloaded.

When he came back to himself his face was buried deep into the curve of her neck, his mouth open and sucking on her flesh. He turned the contact into a soothing kiss. He felt lax and sated and more content than he could ever recall being. He ran his hand softly up and down her thigh, luxuriating in the silkiness of her skin. 

“You’re still with me, then?” she teased.

“Mmm…” was his only reply. He couldn’t even find the energy to open his eyes, never mind lift his head.

She combed her hands through his hair. He arched his neck slightly, pushing up into her fingers to let her know he liked it. She laughed softly at his silent demand for her attention and he felt her lips briefly touch his shoulder. 

“I have often wondered what happened, after a person warmed up,” she said, reflectively, continuing to play with his hair. “I’m glad to see it results in the logical conclusion.”

Jack was in complete agreement. “We should visit the South Pole one day, they have some great ideas.”

“If we do, try not to end up cold with anyone but me - there's actually only men down there.”

Jack’s small huff of amusement against the sensitive skin of her neck had her squirming and giggling in his arms. It was behaviour that was completely out of character for the very experienced, very sophisticated, Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher but she found she really didn't mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an interesting fact I discovered as I wrote this... the first recorded time a woman stepped on Antarctica was not until 1937. She was Ingrid Christensen, a Norwegian woman who made four trips there with her husband. The last trip she made she was accompanied by her daughter and two other ladies. 
> 
> Caroline Mikkelsen, a Danish women married to a Norwegian captain, actually landed on an island 5 kilometres from the mainland in 1935. 
> 
> I imagine both of these ladies were exceptional characters and Phryne would have got on famously with them.


	6. Chapter 6

Phryne could wake to instant alertness if need be; it was a skill she had acquired during the war and then sharpened during her time with René. But she preferred to indulge in a long slow climb to full consciousness, delighting in the small pleasures of a warm, soft bed. This morning the journey was especially wonderful as she luxuriated in the knowledge that she had finally made love to the man who had been haunting her dreams for months.

The man who was currently lying beside… no.... her senses told her she was alone… her hand, out searching, confirmed it… the man who was not currently lying beside her. For a fraction of a second panic ran through her but logic quickly dampened it down - he would not have come all the way from Melbourne to simply disappear the morning after. Eyes still closed she listened intently, trying to puzzle out where he might be and what he was doing.

It didn’t take long. There was the sound of coal being poured from the scuttle, the shutting of the stove door and creak of pipes. All suggesting that he had been up for some time tending to the provision of both heat and hot water. She arched her back into an extended lazy stretch, reaching both arms over her head. When this was complete she snuggled back down into the blankets.

Opening her eyes she found it was still dark, though the room was lit by the flickering flames in the fireplace. The soft thud of footsteps informed her that he was now standing at the doorway. A smile of anticipation formed on her lips. He moved to kneel in front of the fire, his arms full of wood which he placed on the hearth and began to stack. When he had completed this task he picked up the fire iron to stir the embers.

She watched fascinated as he worked with a single minded concentration to rebuild the fire. He was fully dressed - no doubt he had been outside to replenish the wood supplies - she recognised the heavy cream knit jersey and stone coloured trousers from their time at the Mortimer's Chateau. He used the handbrush to sweep the hearth clean and chucked the refuse into the flames, then hesitated, clearly unsure as to his next move.

“Jack?” her voice was soft but clear.

He turned to look at her.

She held out a hand.

He came to perch on the sofa beside her, taking her hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Happy,” she said, gazing up at him and squeezing his hand.

“Not quite what I was meaning, but good to hear,” he brought her hand up to his lips.

“You’ve been busy,” she noted.

“I thought you might appreciate a hot bath,” he said. “I can make tea too, if you want some - the stove is stoked up. There’s no milk though.”

She smiled, “Tea would be much appreciated.”

He stood and headed for the kitchen.

She decided to simply wallow in contentment.

Jack grabbed the kettle off the stove top as soon as it started to whistle, pouring the steaming hot water into the teapot he had found earlier. The tea leaves released an aroma that seemed promising, which was good as he had no idea how long they had been in the caddy. He fitted the cosy over the pot and stood staring out the window at the snow covered woods whilst it brewed.

He admitted to himself that he had been nervous how things would be between them this morning. Figuring that she might find waking beside him stifling he had removed himself before she did, deciding to focus his energy on heating and exploring the cottage. He had found it to be a pleasant task that took his mind off how last night would change things between them. The cottage was a simple two up, two down arrangement with the recent, and very welcome, addition of an internal bath and lavatory.

Once he had located the coal store it had taken almost no time to get the wetback stove roaring and he was confident that hot water was now available. A quick shuffle through the cupboards had revealed tea and all the necessary equipment. There had even been some cans and he had briefly considered making some breakfast but he decided that they would walk up to the main house as soon as she had bathed in any event.

Placing his finger against the handle he spun the teapot slowly three times, surprised to find himself humming and shook his head at the foolishness of it all before he placed the tea strainer over the first cup and began to pour. He impressed himself with the fact that he did not jump when two slim arms encircled his chest and a warm soft body pressed against his back.

“Domesticity suits you, Jack,” she said.

He thought for a moment before deciding that was a positive statement. “Making a pot of tea is the least of my domestic achievements,” he informed her as he poured the second cup.

“I cannot wait to enjoy the rest of your talents, then,” she teased.

“I shouldn’t expect you’ll have much chance of that at the main house… unless you’re planning to put me in with the servants.” This witticism was rewarded with a peal of delighted laughter.

“What? And risk having every female member of staff making doe eyes at you? No, thank you. I plan to keep you within cooee at all times, Inspector.”

He covered her hands with his, pressing slightly. “I like the sound of that,” he admitted.

She hugged him tightly. “Good, it’s so much easier when you agree with me.”

He snorted. “Then perhaps you could consider listening to what I say sometimes.” He gently removed her hands from his body. “Go drink your tea, Miss Fisher, whilst I check whether there’s hot water yet.”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, wrapped up in a blanket with the steaming cup of tea in her hands, she watched him leave the room. She searched through the feelings last night and this morning had given rise to, and found nothing that concerned her. Everything was exactly how she had hoped it would be. She blew into the mug, smiling contentedly as she looked forward to her bath.

By the time she came back from bathing, Jack had tidied everything away and her clothes were draped over a chair he had pulled in front of the fire. She could get used to this quiet thoughtfulness she decided, as she pulled her deliciously warm jumper over her head - very used to it. He had disappeared again, presumably to give her some privacy. Which was completely unnecessary but rather adorable.

“Are you ready to brave the world, Miss Fisher?” His voice was that low, smooth rumble that she could listen to all day. She turned to find him leaning with his back against the doorframe, arms folded, gazing at her. She wondered how long he had been there, not that she minded, not one bit.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she grimaced.

“It’s not too bad out, the snow stopped hours ago and the road is well packed.”

“It’s seeing my father that I'm not looking forward to, not the weather,” she said.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll find out, soon enough,” she promised.


	7. Chapter 7

“Good morning, Mr Shaw,” Phryne said energetically as she divested herself of hat and gloves. With her cheeks flushed from their walk, eyes sparkling and perfectly ruffled hair, she was a picture of health, overflowing with joie de vivre.

“I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Miss,” the elderly gentleman said, helping her with her coat. “You gave us quite the fright.”

“What nonsense,” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You know I’m tougher than that.”

Ignoring her words and actions, he turned to take Jack’s coat, “And thank you, sir. I understand your assistance to our Miss was invaluable. She can be a terrible trial at times but I’d like to keep her about, nonetheless.”

Jack suspected he and Mr Shaw would get on just fine. “My sentiments exactly,” he replied.

Mr Shaw nodded towards the front room. “Your parents are still in the breakfast room, Miss.” He gave Jack an appraising look. “I shall bring through additional provisions.”

Yes, they were going to get on very well Jack thought. He followed Phryne, rather amused by the idea that each meal might be allocated a specific space for consumption and wondering if morning and afternoon smoko qualified for this honour too. The room they entered more than justified its moniker, filled as it was with the welcome aromas of bacon, sausages, freshly baked bread and coffee. He inhaled deeply, fully aware how hungry he was. He looked hopefully towards the end of the room where an array of silver serving dishes sat proudly, no doubt stuffed full of many delectable items.

“Phryne. Jack…” the Baron began in a welcoming tone, only to be cut off.

“Father, what have you gotten Harold into?”

Jack looked wistfully at the dishes, a sneaking suspicion forming that he would not be consuming their contents any time soon. With a silent sigh, he reluctantly turned his attention to the non-food occupants of the room. The Baron sat at the head of a table big enough to accommodate at least a dozen people. The Baroness sat to his right, facing the row of french doors of which an entire wall of the room consisted. She twisted in her chair to look at her daughter.

“What on earth has he done, now?” She did not sound surprised, more resigned.

“Would you like to explain, father? Or shall we leave that to Harold? Or more likely, the police.”

Now, Phryne had Jack’s undivided attention.

The Baron glanced at his wife, upon whose face thunder clouds were gathering. He decided to focus on his daughter, who only looked angry. “No need to get so excited,” he opened his arms expansively, bestowing a warm, benign smile upon all and sundry. “We’re all here, safe and sound - no harm done.”

"Something tells me Harold may disagree," Phryne spat back. Jack instinctively stepped closer - ready to stop her from doing anything she may later regret. If he could.

“Henry! What is she talking about?”

The Baron placed a conciliatory hand over his wife’s. “Now, dear, it was all just the most tremendous misunderstanding which we can discuss _after_ our guest has had a chance to have some refreshments.” He beamed at Jack and waved at the food. “You must be famished. Do help yourself.”

It took all of his substantial self control not to take up the offer but Jack remained steadfastly at Phryne’s side. He was rewarded, to his surprise, by her grasping his hand. The warm feeling this prompted far outweighed any pleasure to be gained from the food, though he did start a mental review of the contents of the cans he had discovered earlier in the cupboards.

“No,” she said, “we only came for the car, then we will be heading to the hospital to interview Harold. I plan to get to the bottom of this, father - so, I suggest you take this opportunity to tell mother everything you know.”

“Phryne,” the Baron was not willing to give up that easily, “at least let the poor man break his fast before you drag him off on a wild goose chase. It’s not as if the police are going to let you anywhere near their suspect.” The hint of smugness in his voice did nothing to placate his daughter.

“Oh,” she gave her father a self-satisfied smile, “I wouldn't put any money on that if I were you.” Her eyes moved briefly to Jack before returning to rest on her father. Just before she stalked out she was pleased to see real concern on his face.

Jack followed her. He had no idea how she thought he could get them access to Harold - he was completely without authority here - but if this was a bluff, as he suspected, he wasn't going to let the team down. When they were out of both sight and sound of the breakfast room he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Do we actually have a plan?”

He was rather surprised when, coming to a stop where their jackets were hanging, she replied “Yes.”

He tilted his head, inviting an explanation.

“We are going back to the cottage where I intend to fuck the living daylights out of you,” she handed him his coat and began to put hers on, “after which I’m sure an idea will present itself.”

Jack blinked. “That is not an investigative method I’ve tried before,” he admitted, “but I like the sound of it.”

When Mr Shaw chose that moment to walk through a doorway with a hamper full of food, he knew he must have died and gone to heaven.

Unfortunately, on the short drive back to the cottage, he had reason to wonder if it was possible to die twice. As a distraction from his impending demise he decided to bring himself up to speed on their case. “What exactly is it, that your father has done?”

Taking advantage of the ice that had formed overnight, she threw the car into a long slide round a corner.

Jack clung onto the hamper like grim death.

“Harold told me yesterday he wasn't stealing father's money, of course I didn't believe him but the look on my father’s face just now tells a different story.”

They flew over a series of moguls that had formed on the road where the snow had drifted prior to freezing.

Jack clamped his jaws together; now was not the time to bite through his tongue. When the road had smoothed out, relatively speaking, he continued his line of enquiry. “You think the Baron endorsed the transfer of funds? Why would he do that?”

She took her eyes from the road to look at him. “That's what we need to ask Harold. I probably should have let him finish his story before I hit him but his whining was annoying me.” She flicked her eyes back to the road just in time to prevent them plowing into a ditch.

Jack, coming out of the brace position, clenched and unclenched his fingers to release the tension in them. “Come to think of it," he mused, "there was something odd about the way he tried to get me to follow your tracks yesterday. I wonder if he knew Harold had you?”

Turning off the road she slammed her foot on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt mere inches from the back wall of the cottage. “If that’s true, and he admits it to mother?” Phryne grinned. “I do hope I’m there to see her reaction.”


	8. Chapter 8

Phryne was in no mood to muck around when she got into the cottage but she could appreciate the practicality of Jack replenishing his energy reserves. “I need ten minutes to freshen up,” she gave a meaningful glance at the hamper in his hands, “if you’re not in the room by then I’ll start without you.”

Jack pondered if that was really an incentive to be on time, but on balance decided not to tarry. She was under the covers, obviously naked, when he arrived in the room carrying two plates. He held one out to her. “I believe, in the local parlance, these are called bacon sarnies.”

She looked surprised but shuffled up the bed, holding the blankets demurely over her bosom and took the plate. This was a first - a man delaying the activities of the boudoir to provide her with food. Her Inspector continued to be full of surprises.

He made himself comfortable on the bed beside her. “I take it Mr Shaw has been with the family for some time,” he said conversationally before he bit into his sandwich.

She nodded. “He came with the house.” She chewed for a while. “He was very kind to the little lost weed from Australia.”

“Yes, I can see that he would be.”

She leaned into him. “I was very lonely when we moved here. Father was busy wining and dining his way into Society and mother…”

Jack stopped chewing and looked at her.

“...well, mother was not herself.”

Jack placed his hand on her thigh, squeezing ever so slightly to show he understood.

“She could have left him at any time. Aunt Prudence would have taken the three of us in without batting an eyelid. She and mother had always been close. But she was too proud, and so she stayed with him and we lost Janey. It took her some time to recover.”

He squeezed her leg again. “You know there’s only one person to blame for Janey’s death and that isn’t you, your mother or even your father. The only person to blame is Foyle.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “If you keep telling me that, one day I might actually believe you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Deal.”

They finished their sarnies in companionable silence.

And then Phryne took his plate from him and placed it on her bedside table. He watched her, silent, as she slipped out of the blankets to kneel astride his legs and tugged on his jersey. He leaned forward and she pulled it over his head. Running her hands through his now disarrayed hair, she reveled in the lushness of it.

He looked up at her through his lashes, not wanting to speak, in case he broke the spell or woke up to find it was a dream. She bent her head and kissed him. It was sweet, almost chaste, just lips against lips but it made his heart thud so hard he was surprised she couldn’t hear it.

She released his lips and sat back on her heels, head tilted, considering. He looked shy, uncertain what was expected of him. Picking up his right hand and holding it in both of hers, she ran her fingers down the tendons on the back to his wrist before turning it palm up. She traced the smudge of ash she found there, evidence of him having stoked the fire up again. She wiped it away with her thumb, gazing into his eyes, touched by this further evidence of his desire to care for her. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed each of his finger tips in turn, then his thumb, then the centre of his palm before lowering it so she could undo the cuff buttons. She returned it gently back where it had been. She did the same with his left hand. Reaching out she undid his tie, sliding it out from his collar, folding it and putting it on his bedside table.

He admired the way her body moved as she stretched across him to do this - she was lithe like a cat, a jungle cat, maybe a panther? He rather liked that metaphor, it suited her… lithe, dark and dangerous.

She began to undo his shirt buttons, slow and measured. When she got just over halfway she pulled his shirt and his singlet untucked and he leaned forward again so she could pull them over his head too. Even then she didn’t rush, just rocked back to rest on her ankles and surveyed him, eyes running slowly over every inch of his exposed flesh. Her hand extended to trace the scars that ran from his hip to the edge of his ribs but she didn’t ask.

Jack was starting to feel nervous. This gentle approach was so far from what he had expected of her, he wondered if perhaps he didn’t excite her the way other men did?

She shuffled down his body, still on her knees, and tugged on the waist of his trousers in a way that made it clear she wanted him to lie down flat. When he did so, she placed her hands on the buttons of his trousers and looked at him.

He managed to find just enough sense of self to croak, “Please?” only to wince at the desperation he could hear in his voice.

She must have heard it too, because she stopped, put her weight forward so she was on her hands and knees before reaching up to kiss him again, another long slow kiss but this time she ran her tongue over his lips encouraging him to open them. But, unlike the first time they were intimate she didn’t plunder his mouth but explored it, slowly and thoroughly, in a way that left him equally breathless. She gave him two more brief kisses before moving back to her knees and placing her hands back on his buttons. She undid them, before running her hands into the waistband of his boxers, lifting the material up and away from his erection before sliding them and his trousers down and off him completely. She ended kneeling beside him, not touching, just looking.

He felt vulnerable and exposed, convinced she was judging him - and found him wanting, because she certainly wasn’t throwing herself at him.

Her eyes slowly returned to his and he was shocked by how dark they looked, the blue a thin circle around the pupils. “You are spectacular, Jack.” Her voice was low and raspy. “I want you so much I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted.

He was genuinely speechless.

“You are going to have to forgive me, because whatever I do, it isn’t going to last long or be overly inventive but…” her lips curved up slowly, “...you really only have yourself to blame.” She moved to lie on her side, touching him with the full length of her body, lifting up to let him slip his arm beneath her and pull her in even closer.

She wound her fingers back through his hair, guiding his mouth to hers and kissed him, far more insistently this time. By the time they came up for air she was halfway across his chest so it seemed only natural that from there she would straddle him before leaning in to kiss him again. Now, for the first time he felt he could let his hands explore the softness and contours of her body, running his hands from her shoulders, down her back to cup the curve of her arse. He pulled her hard against him and he felt her wetness against his skin. The low groan of his appreciation reverberated between them.

She broke their kiss to rest her forehead against his. “I know, it’s almost too much, isn’t it?”

He froze, eyes closed, worried this was going to be the moment when she pushed him away. The blood pounding in his ears was so loud he nearly didn't hear her next words.

“I keep expecting it to scare me,” she pulled back from him, shaking her head slowly, as if dazed, “but it doesn’t.”

His eyes shot open.

She reached down to take him in hand and lowered herself onto him, rocking slowly until he was completely sheathed within her and then she sat up, taking him in even deeper. She steadied her breathing and smiled down at him. She found his hands, holding them to her breasts as she started to move, at a slow, steady pace above him.

Jack, drowning in bliss, levered himself up to catch her nipple in his mouth, running his tongue across and around it. When he felt her hands pressing his head hard against her chest he knew he was doing this right at least and redoubled his efforts until she took her hands from his head and pushed gently against his shoulder.

He let himself drop back, releasing her nipple. She found his hands again, this time entwining their fingers and bringing them up slightly above his head. She leaned down to kiss him again before beginning to move upon him again. “It’s strange, I've always thought having sex and making love were the same thing.”

“Which is this?” he asked, hoping he knew the answer.

She gazed unblinking straight into his eyes. “This is most definitely making love. Do you like it?”

“Yes -” He felt light headed. “I mean, I think I would have enjoyed sex too but this is better, much better.” He cringed, why had he just said that? That didn’t make any sense.

“Oh, Jack,” her amusement was obvious. She started to move quicker, really grinding down on top of him.

He bit his lip, trying hard not to lose control, but before he knew it he was bucking his hips up to meet hers and straining not to take back control of his arms.

“Let go,” she dipped her head to breathe into his ear, “I want you to come for me.”

He was panting hard but managed to still himself. “No.”

“What?”

“No,” he repeated, this time with more conviction.

“Jack, you can't just say ‘No’. That’s not how it works.” She didn't know whether to be angry or laugh, and it showed.

He grinned up at her. “Admit it - you like it when I say ‘No’ to you.”

Phryne shook her head, “I don’t know what…” He thrust up into her. “...oh, shit!” He did it again and again. “I do, I do,” she babbled mindlessly as she came.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, finally allowing himself to succumb to his own release.

She collapsed on to him, laughing. “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

“I prefer to think of myself as - quietly determined,” he said, stroking his hand down her back.

Twenty minutes later, he removed himself from the bed, leaving her dozing. He couldn’t bear the idea of being just another ‘old friend’ and therefore, she needed to feel her life was better with him in it. And that meant he had to find some way to get her access to Harold and that meant calling in favours. At the bottom of the steps he stopped to consider his suitcase, a variety of items carefully placed on hangers and the numerous bags that had miraculously appeared just inside the door. Mr Shaw had obviously been busy. All of which merely underlined the fact that, if you were Phryne Fisher, the world adjusted itself to meet your needs.

He picked up the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Put me through to Scotland Yard, please.”


End file.
